Book Review: Good Morning, Monster: A Therapist Shares Five Heroic Stories of Trauma and Transformation by Dr. Francesca Gildiner
When I first picked up Good Morning, Monster by Dr. Francesca Gildiner, I was eager to delve into a narrative that promised insight and healing, much like Maybe You Should Talk to Someone did. Both books, at their core, shine a light on the delicate dance between trauma and recovery in the therapy room, and I couldn’t resist the pull of exploring yet another therapist’s personal and professional journey. However, what unfolded was a disconcerting experience that left me wrestling with a host of ethical quandaries.
At its heart, Good Morning, Monster illuminates the lives of five patients grappling with profound trauma, and the author’s attempts to guide them toward healing. Gildiner’s writing is undeniably engaging at times, weaving vivid, sometimes graphic accounts of her patients’ past abuses alongside her reflections on their journeys. While the intention may be to highlight their resilience and courage, I often found myself uncomfortable with the salacious detail in which their traumas were presented. It frequently felt like the book strayed into the realm of “trauma porn,” where the sensationalism overshadowed the genuine care and support that should ideally underpin such narratives.
One of the more jarring aspects of the book was the author’s tone. I couldn’t help but notice a troubling lack of boundaries; Gildiner recounts her own mistakes with a glibness that felt utterly inappropriate. Her reflections on personal missteps in the treatment of patients did not seem grounded in a desire for growth or accountability, but rather a casual admission that left me pondering the ethics of her practice. For example, the comparisons she made—at one point equating a conversation about her own feelings of failure with the tragic loss of a patient’s child—felt both misplaced and tone-deaf.
Moreover, while Gildiner does delve into important themes such as identity, healing, and the complexities of trauma, her handling of particularly sensitive topics—like race and gender transition—often fell flat. In her desire to present her patients as “heroes,” she sometimes unintentionally stripped them of their humanity, failing to recognize their multifaceted identities beyond their suffering.
Perhaps the most troubling element of the book was the titular greeting from one patient’s mother: “Good morning, monster.” This phrase encapsulates the chasm between the love and the damage inflicted in familial relationships, yet it also highlights a persistent question throughout the reading experience: who was really centered in these narratives?
Ultimately, while I wanted to embrace the wisdom and stories that Gildiner intended to share, I found myself disturbed and questioning the nature of vulnerability in therapy. I can’t wholeheartedly recommend this book, as its portrayal of therapy felt more exploitative than enlightening. Those seeking profound insights into trauma and healing may find it hard to resonate with the author’s approach, given its ethical ambiguities and potential consequences.
In reflection, Good Morning, Monster offers a challenging look at therapy and trauma that might prompt discussions about ethics and boundaries in psychological practice. While the stories within it are undeniably powerful, they also serve as a sobering reminder of how crucial it is to navigate these sensitive subjects with respect and care. If you’re a reader intrigued by the intricacies of healing or the human psyche, be prepared to encounter a mixed bag that may leave you with more questions than answers.
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